


Poker Face

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman has an intuition that a string of crimes are all related.  Superman helps him puzzle it out--and learns some alarming things about his friend in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poker Face

  
Batman had his arms crossed and was frowning intensely at the photo on his computer screen: a charred body lying on the remains of a bed in a luxurious penthouse apartment.

"Nasty," said Superman from behind him.

One dark shoulder lifted in a shrug. "He was a Russian mobster. Ran a white slavery ring and it was rumored he directed snuff films. Not many people will be crying themselves to sleep over him."

"Still nasty."

Batman grunted something vaguely agreeing, still frowning.

"What's on your mind?"

"It's connected."

By now, Clark was used to Bruce's terseness when he was puzzling out a case, so he merely said patiently, "What's connected?" Batman sighed, slightly annoyed at being pulled from his train of thought. "You're the one who says it sometimes helps to say things out loud," Clark said. "So talk it through."

"A few months ago, a young starlet named Penny Brite was pushed off a veranda. She lived, but was paralyzed from the neck down. Claims she never saw the assailant, he--or she--came up on her from behind. Then four days ago, her boyfriend was poisoned. Her boyfriend, who happened to be a good friend of the unfortunate Mr. Egorov." He gestured at the blackened corpse on the bed. "The next day, a group of Mr. Egorov's associates were killing time and playing poker when--so they claim--a young woman entered the room with a gun. She was platinum blond, wearing something like a black latex bandanna and some kind of faceted silver mask. She made them strip, tied them up, and took all their money. And now this, three days later. It's all connected. I know it is. But what's the connection? An attack, a robbery, and two murders." He moved the mouse randomly over the gruesome picture, as if drawing connections between his thoughts.

"Another actress, jealous of Brite?"

Batman shook his head thoughtfully, staring at the blackened bed. He stood and clicked open a pouch at his waist, pulling out a few charred hairs. Going to a microscope, he put them under the lens and started to study them.

"You think those are the murderer's hairs?"

"No. This--" He opened another pouch and waved a long, pale strand, "--is the murderer's. But it's synthetic. A wig. These--" He turned his attention back to the microscope, "--Are taken from a burned found at the foot of the bed. Bearskin, I believe." His frown deepened. "Polar bear, to be precise."

He stood up, his brow furrowed, and started to pace. "Faceted silver mask...paralyzed starlet...poisoned boyfriend...white bearskin rug..." He stopped abruptly. "My God, that's it."

"What's it?"

Batman whirled and started to pull up new windows on his computer: three videos in which men and women capered rhythmically in various stages of undress. "All of the crimes are from Lady Gaga videos," Batman explained urgently, pointing at the screen. "See?"

"You mean a greater crime than the dancing?"

Bruce snorted. "Look, Clark. 'Paparazzi' starts with a starlet being pushed off a veranda by her lover and left in a wheelchair. Later, she poisons her boyfriend." He switched windows. "'Poker Face' features the silver faceted mask and a strip poker game. And in the video for 'Bad Romance,' the main character murders a Russian gangster in bed with a flamethrower." The final video showed a woman wearing an entire white bearskin rug as a cloak, dragging the head behind her as she advanced on a man sitting on a bed. Batman hit his palm with a fist in triumph. "That's it!" He started to swivel away from the screen and stopped at the look on Superman's face. "What?"

"You...know Lady Gaga videos by heart?"

Batman crossed his arms and glowered. "I work in a town where criminals are regularly inspired by _Alice in Wonderland_, Clark. Obviously it's only smart to stay up-to-date on fads and fashions that might trigger some more modern lunatic. I will have you know," he continued severely, "That I am conversant with not only the video _oeuvre_ of Lady Gaga, but also Adam Lambert, Miley Cyrus, Ke$ha--" When he said it he managed to pronounce the dollar sign, "--and Justin Bieber." An elaborate shudder. "Though let us both hope and pray no maniac is ever called to a life of crime based on a Justin Bieber theme."

"I'm sorry, Bruce, my brain is still offline from hearing you seriously say the words 'Lady Gaga's _video oeuvre._.'"

Batman's lips thinned. "No time for that," he said. "I need your help--or rather, I need Clark Kent's help."

"Clark Kent's? But why?"

"Because the killer is going to strike again--_and I know where."_

**: : :**

Clark Kent sat in his ill-fitting checked polyester suit, looking out across the diner. It seemed quiet, and had for hours. He knew that elsewhere in Gotham, Dick, Tim, and Steph were sitting in similar diners, watching the customers and staff. People came and went. "Nothing is happening here, B," he murmured into his microphone. "It's all--wait."

A waitress came out from the back of the diner and started handing out pancakes and coffee. No one else blinked at the fact she was wearing what looked like a skintight white latex dress and a hat made of bright blue phones--Gothamites were used to everyday quirkiness. However, everyone froze, forks halfway to mouths, when Clark Kent jumped to his feet and yelled, "Nobody eat! The food is all poisoned!"

The waitress gave a shriek of rage and rushed at Clark with her perfectly-manicured nails bared. Her charge was halted, however, when Batman came crashing through the diner window. As Batman grappled with the crazed poisoner, Clark tackled another woman who was trying to quietly flee the scene. Her yellow cowboy hat flew off and her elegantly arranged dark curls tumbled everywhere. "I've got the accomplice," Clark said as Batman snapped handcuffs on the blond waitress.

"Thought you could get away with it, didn't you?" Batman said to the cursing waitress. "But I figured out your pattern and I knew you'd be trying to replicate the crime in Gaga's next video, 'Telephone.' I even knew you'd have to have an accomplice to help out. You had to, didn't you...Penny?" He pulled off the blond wig to reveal Penny Brite, her eyes snapping in defiance and fury.

"But...but she can't walk!" Someone in the crowd pointed out.

The starlet flung her head back dramatically. "Oh, I recovered," she snarled. "I recovered from my creep of a boyfriend pushing me off that veranda. And that's when I finally understood my destiny! My high and noble fate! To replicate the path to glory laid out by Mama Monster in her videos as messages to me, her greatest little monster!" Her voice was rising, spiraling well beyond sanity. "Egorov deserved it for what he did to us, the horrible things he put us all through!"

"But these people didn't deserve to die," Batman noted.

"Don't you understand, _I had to do it!_ It was the next message to me, the next step I had to take to prove my devotion! All shall tremble before the fashionable wrath of..._The GaGangster!_"

"And Queen Beeyonce," added her accomplice, beaming at her.

The wail of sirens started to come closer. "I think it's off to Arkham for the two of you," Batman said, moving toward the door.

The GaGangster twisted in his grasp and tried to point at Clark Kent with her shackled hands. "_He's_ the one committing the true crime here, not me! _Crimes against fashion!_"

"She has something of a point," Batman said, looking at Clark's orange checked suit as the police car pulled away.

Clark mimed being deeply hurt. "I think I have a certain _je ne sais quoi._"

Batman raised an eyebrow but said nothing further on the subject. "I'd better head home for some rest. I have to get through an Uwe Boll marathon tonight." Clark gaped at him and Batman nodded grimly. "_House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, Zombie Massacre_, and all three _BloodRayne_ films."

"Dear God," said Clark. "I never knew you were a _masochist._" He grinned. "I'll come over and keep you company. It'll be fun."

Batman huffed. "It's not some kind of _movie night,_ Clark. It's serious research into potential riddles and serial killer themes which might one day save lives, like today. I usually watch movies while working out. I do not _have fun_ while watching them."

"I'll bring popcorn."

"You most certainly will not." Batman held up a forbidding finger to cut off Clark's protest. "You probably eat _microwave popcorn_." He shook his head at Clark's sheepish expression. "Blasphemy. Alfred makes _real_ popcorn, not that repulsive stuff." He readied a grapple. "_House of the Dead_ starts at seven sharp. I won't wait for you."

And then he was gone in a flutter of black silk. Clark stared after him. He must have been imagining it, because there was _no way_ Batman would be singing "P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face" under his breath as he swooped.

...Right?

_   
**FIC: Poker Face**   
_


End file.
